When In Rome
by Sellinea Veradica
Summary: Right after GOF, Sirius is following Dumbledore's instructions to the best of his ability, but it leads him and Remus Lupin into some rather unexpected situations...read and review! (Chapter two: Familiar Faces, and Quite a Few Surprises)
1. Arrival

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J. K. Rowling.

Author's note: If there was a genre title "Nonsensical Insanity," this story would probably fit the bill. A brief summary...hmm. Sirius has just left Hogwarts to search out Remus Lupin's current place of residence. Through a bizarre series of events, both of them end up entangled in a plot being hatched by the Death Eaters...and going back two thousand years in time. Remus is accidentally whisked away to Ancient Rome in the backwash of a certain spell and is left on his own to figure out what is going on. Meanwhile, Sirius needs to unravel his side of things in the modern world...and it isn't going to be easy.

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Pottermaniac, you brought up a very good point, but needless to say, Dumbledore often has his own ideas about what he is "obligated" to do...and besides, there was rather a lot going on after GoF. My assumption is that certain imperative business, which my readers will find out about in due course, interrupted him from following up on his instructions the way he planned. And it makes a much better plotline this way. ( :- ) 

When in Rome

Sirius Black was tired, hungry, and, above all, irritated.

Part of it was the fact that he'd just taken a Portkey from Scotland all the way to Italy. His bones still hadn't quit rattling. Of course, there had been other options. Apparation was one, but he didn't have a wand of his own, and the one Dumbledore had lent him wasn't exactly the sort of thing he wanted to trust the proper assemblage of his body to. Then, of course, there was Floo Powder, but he would have to have a fireplace to come out of, and he doubted any witch or wizard in Italy would be willing to lend theirs to a convicted murderer on the run from the British Ministry of Magic. Except, of course, for one, but the whole point of the trip was that he didn't know exactly where that one person was. Floo Powder was out of the question. Broomsticks might have worked, but he hadn't been on a broomstick in years, and the idea of flying on one for well over a thousand miles wasn't something he felt like doing, especially with the risk of being seen. As a last resort, he might have ridden Buckbeak, but he'd spent too much time over the past year riding on that hippogriff, as well as feeding it, cleaning it, housing it...other than those, Portkeys had really been the only option.

No, that wasn't quite right, he amended, cocking his shaggy black dog's head to one side, glaring suspiciously at the dubious-looking Muggle aircraft that were taking off from and landing in Rome's Municipal Airport. He could have taken one of those--if it hadn't been for the fact that he was still liable to be recognized (it wasn't likely, but being on the run from the Ministry for nearly two years now had made Sirius a bit paranoid, not that anyone could blame him) and that he didn't trust those things as far as he could throw them--but after some serious consideration (which had taken him about half a second) he had opted to use a magical route.

So, he had used a Portkey. The journey had been awful and much longer than the other similar trips he had experienced. Still, the upset stomach and bruises this had awarded him were only part of the reason he was feeling so irritated. The other lay--hopefully--somewhere within a radius of six miles from the point at which he was now standing. The problem was, so did almost three million others, only one of whom was the person he was searching for.

Albus Dumbledore was a great man. Sirius would give him that. He was incredibly intelligent and powerful, and had been one of the very few that had believed Sirius hadn't committed the murders he was wanted for. He had done more for Sirius than he could ever expect to repay. That did not, however, mean that Sirius would ever be able to understand the man, or his instructions.

"_Lie low at Lupin's for a while; I will contact you there_," he had said. The instructions had seemed simple enough. Sirius had immediately set off for Remus Lupin's home in London, only to find it completely deserted, showing no signs of having been lived in for quite some time. Perplexed and not a little worried, he had returned to Hogwarts just after the students had left on summer holidays, only to find that the headmaster was also gone and couldn't be expected back for some time. This was all he had managed to drag out of Severus Snape, not that it was surprising. Snape undoubtedly knew more than he was saying, but the Potions Professor at Hogwarts needed little excuse to infuriate Sirius. Not sure what else to do, Sirius had decided to go to Minerva McGonagall, hoping to get more information from the Transfiguration teacher. He had neglected to account for the fact that Minerva had absolutely no reason to believe that Sirius hadn't murdered thirteen people at once nearly a decade and a half ago and had therefore nearly received a heart attack when the huge, shaggy black dog she'd seen once or twice before erupted into a tall, thin, black-haired wizard, half-starved and completely unkempt, inside her office. When she had recovered, she immediately stunned him and went for help. Fortunately for Sirius, the first person she saw after that episode had been Snape. Amused, and no doubt rather reluctant, Snape had lifted the stunning charm and proceeded to explain to the horrified Minerva that Sirius had, in fact, been framed.

After Minerva had regained something similar to self-composure, she had agreed to help Sirius find Remus Lupin, though she hadn't heard from him for longer than Sirius had. After a good deal of poking around, she had returned with the information that he had apparently moved to Rome, Italy. Sirius couldn't help but wonder why Dumbledore hadn't bothered to mention that Remus had moved out of the country. He was, understandably, rather unhappy about this. Sirius had resigned himself to his fate, however, though Minerva hadn't been able to find anything as remotely definite as an address, and Portkeyed directly into the heart of Rome.

So, here he was, having taken on his Animagus form (as he assumed that a black dog--if a tremendously enormous, shaggy one--would be less likely to be noticed than a wanted criminal), trotting exhaustedly through downtown Rome. He had drawn quite a few stares by this time and been shooed away whenever he attempted to beg for food, and he still had absolutely no idea where to find Remus.

He growled to himself, earning startled looks from a few passing pedestrians. At the very least, Remus could have gone off to America. Or Australia, for that matter, or anywhere else where somebody spoke English. Not Italy. This was absolutely the most ridiculous thing he had ever done in his life, and that included showing up for his first Quidditch match in pink tights and a tutu. At least he'd managed to get ten galleons out of everyone who hadn't believed he would do that. Now he'd give a lot for ten galleons--preferably in the form of a large hamburger and a bed for the night. Or pita bread stuffed with beef, whatever they ate here--was that Greece? The point was, the last thing he felt like doing was dragging his exhausted body along one street after another in search of someone living at an completely unknown address. What had Dumbledore been thinking?

A methodical search was impractical, he knew. Stopping in at the Italian Ministry of Magic offices to see if they had a Werewolf Register was even more so. With no other plan in sight, he turned to his foolproof last resort--trust to his own luck.

Several hours later, it occurred to him that this last resort had rarely been all that successful. He should have known better. What kind of luck must he have if he'd ended up in Azkaban for twelve years? With a howl of surpressed frustration, he threw himself to the ground, staring from under a park bench at the multitude of feet shuffling by.

Sirius raised his head slightly in a self-pitying whimper. He knew perfectly well that he was being ridiculously pathetic and didn't care. What he did care about, quite suddenly enough to make him forget about his current predicament, was the face that had just caught his eye--a hauntingly familiar face. Except it wasn't the one he was looking for.

********

Something wasn't right, Remus decided, staring down at the paper in his lap. After all the fuss the _Daily Prophet_ had made over the Triwizard Tournament, all the third task had gotten was a tiny paragraph saying that Harry Potter had won the cup and the thousand galleons prize money. There was nothing else to say what had happened to the other contenders or to describe the reactions at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There were no interviews with the headmaster of Durmstrang Institute about their contender's performance, or any from Beaxbatons Academy about theirs. Hogwarts' other champion, Cedric Diggory, wasn't mentioned, and there were no pictures. Harry wasn't even quoted. Something was definitely not right.

He let the paper go and rubbed one hand across his eyes. He hadn't kept in touch regularly with anyone from Hogwarts after resigning from his post there a year ago. No one but Dumbledore even knew he'd moved, and he'd only mentioned that in passing. Perhaps now was the time to write....

Remus stood up and took a sheet of parchment and a quill from his desk. In doing so, he glanced out the window. From the second story, he could just barely make out the street below. There was a dog of some sort sitting under one of the park benches, he noticed absently. Somebody ought to do something about that stray...preoccupied and tired, he didn't think twice about what he had seen, and sat down again, smoothing the parchment to his desk.

_Dear Albus...._


	2. Familiar Faces and Quite a Few Surprises

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J. K. Rowling, as usual.

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! By the way, ink'n'imp, the Remus and Romulus thing will come into play later on, so keep that in mind. Be sure you've read the expanded version of chapter one before reading this. This chapter will be longer, just so you know. Read Ad Infinitum if you haven't already (a bit of subtle hinting on my part). Enjoy! Questions, comments, constructive criticism, and suggestions are welcome!

When in Rome

Chapter Two: Familiar Faces, and Quite a Few Surprises

Stunned, Sirius just sat there for a moment, unable to believe his eyes, but no--even half-hidden by the hood of a midnight blue cloak, that was the same pale face, gray-white hair, and goatee. Although the face was considerably more drawn and strained than when Sirius had last seen the man, it was undoubtedly him.

What was Igor Karkaroff doing in Italy?

Sirius had hardly expected the man to flee back to Durmstrang. The former Death Eater would never return to the school where he had been headmaster while on the run from Voldemort. Still, it was an unbelievable coincidence that he would end up right where Sirius and (hopefully) Remus were. Unless there was some reason Remus had moved there in the first place that Karkaroff knew about. That was nonsense. As the back of Karkaroff's hood began to drift further away, Sirius decided that finding Remus could wait. Besides, wherever Karkaroff was going would be as good a place to look as any other. Forgetting for a moment his aching limbs, he moved quickly back into the crowd, careful not to lose sight of the blue cloak.

Karkaroff was walking as though he knew where he was going, but every few minutes he would look carefully over his shoulder as though making sure he wasn't being watched. Sirius had little difficulty in staying out of sight, even though the lateness of the hour meant that fewer people were out and about on the streets. They walked through a few streets Sirius had already been on before turning a corner and heading in a different direction. After about fifteen minutes of walking, stopping, walking, and stopping again while Karkaroff had his look around, the man slowed abruptly, looking carefully over the houses and apartments closely lining the street they were on.

Sirius saw no crowd to hide in here, so he kept in the shadows. It was easy enough, as the street lights were dim and flickering. Karkaroff stopped in front of a very dingy-looking house, glanced around furtively, and hurried to the door. Sirius moved closer until going any further would have meant being seen. The figure in the blue cloak lifted an arm to knock and waited a moment for the door to open.

The head that stuck itself out made Sirius catch his breath sharply. Here was another face he knew...almost. There was a hint of gray in the hair and there was a definite difference in the shape of the eyes, but the crooked nose and sallow skin were almost identical. This was not--_could_ not--be Severus Snape, but there was no denying the strong resemblance.

"Igor!" came a low, oily voice. "What--"

"Not so loud!" Karkaroff's voice was breathless and trembling with what could only be terror. "You know perfectly well why I'm here. Don't tell me you didn't notice, and that you couldn't tell what it meant."

"So you come to me," the other said. "I don't want to get involved in this again, Igor."

"You don't have a choice. Neither of us do." An unsteady pause ensued--Karkaroff cleared his throat. "Are you going to stand there or let me in where we can talk?"

"Are you alone?"

A hollow sound echoed down the street. Sirius assumed it was Karkaroff's attempt at a laugh. "I'm not an idiot. I brought nobody. Not even your brother. He's thrown in his lot with Dumbledore."

"He would. Why didn't you?"

"Because the only chance I've got now--the only chance _you've_ got, Septimius, is to ride the fence as long as we can. We can't win, and neither can your brother, but this way we might live to see this thing through." This was followed by moment of dead silence.

"You may be right, but we're fools to talk this over in the street."

"That's what I--" Karkaroff's voice faded as the door closed behind the two of them, and the street was empty once more.

So Severus Snape had a brother, and a former Death Eater, by the sound of things. He'd had absolutely no idea. So this was why Karkaroff had come here. He wondered if Remus knew there was a man named Septimius Snape living in Rome but doubted his friend had known any more than Sirius had.

This was getting more and more interesting, but Sirius wasn't sure he liked it.

********

The following morning, the window of a comfortable, if small, apartment opened, and an owl flew out.

Nobody took any notice, mostly due to the fact that it was extremely early and few people were awake to do so.

Clutched in the owl's talons was a letter bearing the name _Albus Dumbledore_.

Back inside the apartment, Remus Lupin was getting ready for another day of work. As usual, he had oatmeal and toast for breakfast, and as usual he left his apartment at six. The bus he rode was the same one bus he always rode, and it went along exactly the same routes he was used to. In fact, it was a perfectly ordinary morning for him, though it might not have been had he noticed the large black dog sleeping by the side of the road about halfway to his destination.

********

Sirius had, so far, gotten absolutely nowhere. He'd spent the night asleep in somebody's front yard and been chased out of it early that morning immediately after an extremely loud bus had passed by, waking him up in the process. The whole morning, he had watched Snape's house, but although once or twice he'd seen movements behind the curtains, nobody had come out so far. Not only that, but he still had no more idea where to find Remus than he had the night before. This was becoming increasingly hopeless.

A movement in one of the windows caught his eye, and, looking up quickly, Sirius could see the outline of someone peering outside. A moment or two later, the door opened, and Karkaroff stepped out, followed closely by Snape.

Karkaroff's eyes scanned the street, examining critically the few people there. His eyes skipped directly over Sirius, half-hidden behind a trash bin. "You had better be right about this, Snape," he said in a low voice.

"I am. Get a move on. Standing here isn't going to do anything."

As the two of them began to walk, Sirius was careful to stay far enough behind so as not to attract attention. Figuring, as he had the night before, that he was as likely to find Remus by following them as by doing anything else, he was led once again in a roundabout way through the streets of Rome. It was considerably more difficult to follow them in early afternoon than it had been the previous night, and he nearly lost them in the crowd several times over. Sirius began to map out what he could of the city in his head so that, if he needed to, he could find Snape's house again.

It wasn't until Karkaroff and Snape stopped near a large stone building, before mounting the steps, that Sirius was able to catch his breath. One of these days, he'd have to see about getting back in shape...Azkaban hadn't done much for his physique.

"I _library_?" Karkaroff was saying. "This is what you were going to show me?"

"Believe it or not, Igor, it is. I--what's wrong?"

With a nasty sort of shock, Sirius found that Karkaroff's white face was staring directly through the milling crowds--at him.

"That dog," he said breathlessly, "that dog...he was at Hogwarts...."

"There are quite a few black dogs in Italy, Karkaroff--"

"I'm telling you, that's the same dog! I saw him all over just before the third task--Dumbledore...."

Karkaroff had begun to push his way toward Sirius, who immediately set about losing himself in the crowd. Spying on former Death Eaters was one thing, but he had no desire to be caught. Even if Karkaroff didn't know he was an Animagus, as rare as wizards who could transform were, it would only mean trouble.

It was pure chance, therefore, that while doing his best not to let Karkaroff come any nearer, he looked up toward the library doors. And saw the face of someone coming out.

That, he reflected momentarily, added up to the most unlikely series of coincidences that he had ever experienced in his life.


End file.
